Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Respond.

I can always count on Ava to hold the mirror up for me when
I need it most.

After dinner the other night we all huddle around to play a
game before bedtime routine.Honestly,
this isn’t my most favorite time of day as I’m an early riser and I tend to be
begging for bed long before everyone else in our house.But, it’s one of the few moments in our day
when we are all together so I participate.

There’s rarely much small talk with Ava, she gets right to
it.After asking her about her day, she
shares with me how much she enjoys writing in her journal.As a
fan of writing myself, I love to hear this.Ava’s teacher inspired each child to write about anything on their mind,
things they love and things they dislike.I love this exercise because I believe kids deserve permission to say (and
write) all the things they are
feeling.Then she says it.“Mom, I
wrote that I don’t like when brother takes my things and I wrote that I don’t like that my mom is always on her
phone."I hold my breath, literally,
as I feel the shame wash over me.

Yes, of course my
first thought was how embarrassed I am for her teacher to read this and know
this about me.I feel completely violated
and humiliated as I am trying to quiet the response I began formulating in my
head, a defense to this shameful accusation.In my mind, I am somewhere between “your college fund” and “a woman’s
right to a career”—and it’s escalating
quickly.

Asking more questions is what saves me, buying time as I
return to being the adult.It felt like torture encouraging her to tell
me how badly I sucked.She is still
talking, still sharing as I am barely holding on to the bit of good that is
coming from this (biting my tongue).

It’s all I can do to keep myself quiet and listen.It’s horrible, really.I want to curl up in a ball and go to bed.But, she’s still talking.When she finishes, I want to rehash it so badly
but don’t want to undo what we had just done.

The more they talk,
the more they share and the safer they feel….

In the
bathroom blow-drying my hair, at the park, on the deck while they play, in line
at the grocery store, the in between moments while cooking dinner, I disconnect
from the present moment, fromthem."Mom,
you took Facebook off your phone but you can still Google it." Ouch.Is it really that
bad?She sees me.Moving
quickly through the denial stage, conviction sets in and I want to cry.

How I choose to respond matters more
right now.

I apologize to
her with no excuse or explanation, no defense or justification—just I’m sorry
and a promise to do better.Holding
those moments of silence with her that follow is a challenge.

After some
brief time alone, she crawls in bed next to me. She knows what I need most in
this moment. She doesn’t say anything more about it, carrying on with bedtime as
if nothing had happened. I love her resilience,
her ability to accept, forgive and move on.

What’s
changed?I’m trying to respond
differently to all the noise. Overcome
the temptation to stay on top of email, text messages, and Facebook.I’ve started leaving my phone in my purse
when I make the transition home in the evening.I leave my phone downstairs when I get ready in the morning.I set an expectation and communicate more
clearly when I do need to handle an email or phone call.Is it difficult to maintain the
discipline?Absolutely.The difference is we talk about it and I say
it out loud. I own it when I recognize I’ve been distracted.We all agree with how we want it to be and we
do our best to make it happen.

She humbles
me; she calls me on my stuff.And, she
is transparent.She talks to me.She is not afraid to be honest with me. I
wouldn’t trade this part for anything and I trust these experiences to shape and inspire the relationship we will share in the years ahead.

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I want to remember what it was like getting to
know them. I want to
share the story of my
experience and perspective with them. Leaving a
successful career to
be at home wasn't easy for me. Until I went back
to
work, I needed something else.
During a trying first
year of motherhood, I started
writing to spend more
time focusing on what was good.
I found comfort and company in a lonely space, a voice inside wanting to
be heard. Now, I write to escape from
the busyness of
everyday life. I'm on a quest to learn something
worth teaching.